Inflatable Mr. Stud in the hall closet
Published by Becky S October 29th, 2004 in uncategorized, miscellaneous fluff, wtf?, favorite
What is this inflatable, action motion Mr. Stud box doing in the hall closet? Fair question. I first met Mr. Stud in January of 2003. He was dressed in jeans and a hoodie, calmly occupying an old rocking chair in the basement, and I was coming down the steps with a load of laundry.
“Fuuuuuuuuck. Serial killer in the house. What the fuuuuuuuuck?”
“Hello?”
“Blow up doll? Who the fucking fuck dressed up an inflatable doll and put him in the fucking basement? ”
I cuss a lot when I’m scared.
Turns out that Mr. Stud belonged to the guy on the first floor, Industrious R. Industrious R runs a freelance camera crew operation, a job that entails lots of double parking and lots of parking tickets. The intent was for Mr. Stud to sit in the passenger seat of the illegally-parked camera crew van while Industrious R did his errands, somehow tricking the Philadelphia Parking Authority into easing up on the citations.
This plan, however, was never implemented. Mr. Stud lived in our basement until Industrious R and his wife moved to Collingswood. The day after they moved, I found Mr. Stud’s empty box in the trash and decided to keep it for future use in a practical joke. Unfortunately, I never did think of a good joke, and now I’m scared to throw away the box, lest the neighbors start looking at me funny.
Moral: think carefully before you take an inflatable, action motion Mr. Stud box out of the basement trashcan.
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Oh my god Becky.
“Fuuuuuuuuck. Serial killer in the house. What the fuuuuuuuuck?”
I’m howling.
Thanks.
“Fuuuuuuuuck.”
and here i am thinking this could solve your social engagement date dilemmas for YEARS to come!
Nah, I only date guys who laugh at my jokes.
I love that he has “sexy printed undies” and a “handsome printed face.” Ummm, is that throbbing red stick on the upper left corner of the box an attachable private part to accompany his “manly arms and chest?” Are the chics in the image also blow up dolls? So, that line in the Graduate, when Dustin Hoffman (Benjamin) has emerged from the pool with scuba gear, and is told that “plastics are the way of the future” is pretty much a commentary on relationships–or are they really just a way to get out of parking tickets?
So Mr. Stud is really just a metaphor for superficial modern relationships? Oy, that’s a deep thought for a rainy Friday.
By the way, boss-across-the-hall came up with a brilliant solution for disposing of the Mr. Stud container–the soulless office park holiday gift exchange! Truly, boss-across is the idea man around here.
Becky, that suggestion by Boss-across-the-hall is plain cruel. I recommend giving the Stud Muffin as a gift to boss-across-the-hall.
And does the box say “sexy printed undies”?.
I guess it does say that…my eyesight is not as good as Sassy J’s.
Sam, I’m also surprised that Sassy was able to read that. In addition to “sexy printed undies” and a “handsome printed face,” Mr. Stud has “manly arms and chest.”
I don’t think the holiday gift suggestion is too cruel. I’ll put a real gift inside the box, of course. It’s just for the fun of watching someone open the box in front of the entire department–no one around here who would be overly traumatized.
You would think that being able to read the fine print would indicate that I am attorney. I am not. My ability to discern small details on plastic (sex?) toy pacakaging can be attributed to the many years I spent slaving away in an art history Ph.D. program (which of course is not what I do now). Moral: I should have stuck with plastics.
I copyrighted that name years ago. That’s it, I want immediate legal action to prevent the intentional and malicious use of my brand and image.
Hmmm. Yeah, that fine print appears to be barely legible, if you look real hard. Or maybe there’s a more obvious, sinister explanation…….Sassy J? Fess up. You have a Mr. Stud box in your closet too don’t you?
Surfed in and stayed a while. LOVED your post about the Mr. Stud. Brilliant.
Proof of ownership is forthcoming. Would you prefer to pay royalties with cash or a money order.
I am afraid I have no sympathy for you. This is what happens when you root through your neighbor’s garbage.
Clair, the basement trashcan is shared by everyone in the house. The garbage belongs to all.